Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (Matt x Mello wooo)
by MellodraMattic
Summary: My friend dared me to make a thing and make a bunch of ficlets themed from the songs on this album so...here ya go, Jimmy.
1. The View From The Afternoon

_Anticipation has the habit to set you up/for disappointment in evening entertainment but/tonight there'll be some love, tonight there'll be a rawkus/regardless of what's gone before._

_I want to see all of the things that we've already seen/the lairy girls hung out the window of the limousine/and of course its fancy dress/and they're all looking quite full on in bunny ears and devil horns._

_Anticipation has the habit to set you up/for disappointment in evening entertainment but/tonight there'll be some love, tonight there'll be a rawkus/regardless of what's gone before._

_I want to see all of the things that we've already seen/I want to see you take the jackpot out the fruit machine/and put it all back in/You've got to understand it you can never beat the bandit, no._

_And she won't be surprised and she won't be shocked/when she's pressed the star after she's pressed unlock/and there's verse and chapter sat in her inbox/and all that it says is that you've drank a lot/you should bear that in mind tonight/bear that in mind/you should bear that in mind tonight/bear that._

_You can pour your heart out but her reasoning will block/owt you send her after nine o'clock._

_Anticipation has the habit to set you up/for disappointment in evening entertainment but/tonight there'll be some love/tonight there'll be a rawkus, regardless of what's gone before._

_And she won't be surprised and she won't be shocked/when she's pressed the star after she's pressed unlock/and there's verse and chapter sat in her inbox/and all that it says is that you've drank a lot/you should bear that in mind tonight/bear that in mind/you should bear that in mind tonight/bear that._

_You can pour your heart out around 3 o'clock/when the 2 for 1's undone the writer's block._

9:00pm. One pint of beer. No dances. Just dirty looks, packets of crisps, fruit machines and rude barmaids. Maybe he'd get laid.

10:00pm. Three pints of beer. No dances. Just dirty looks, fruit machines and relief from the weight on his shoulders. Maybe he'd get laid. Then again, probably not.

"Excuse me, could I sit here? I'm alone, you're alone, everywhere else is full and you look like you could use a friend."  
Matt looked up. A tall, blond guy in punk-ish clothing stood with his hand on the back of the chair, very obviously checking him out. Matt grunted and waved his hand, gesturing that it was fine, take the bloody seat for all I care. Another gulp of beer.

"So…I'm Mello. And you are?"

"Matt."

"What an amazingly long, enlightening answer I just received. I should _so_ award you with a medal for it, my ears were blessed for hearing such an amazing sequence of words. Grumpy, aren't we, Matt?"

"…Bitch."

A laugh. Loud, genuinely amused, quite a nice sounding laugh. Apparently this 'Mello' found being called bitch funny, rather than offensive. Although, it generally wasn't used for insult, more humour, if the person on the receiving end was male. Wait…Mello did look extremely feminine…but there was a lack of boobs, so?...

"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, are you a girl or a boy? Not…biologically…you know."  
"I'm a guy. But I get that a lot. Thanks for rubbing it in…bitch."

"You're welcome. Made your day, I'm sure."

"Oh, so you can do sarcasm then. I was beginning to worry."  
"What?"  
"Never trust a guy who can't pull off sarcasm, and never date one either."  
"Who said you were dating me?"

"Oh…I don't know…Mail Jeevas. So, you don't remember. Not that you would. I've changed a lot. You haven't."

Mello eyed the 3DS sticking out of Matt's pocket. Nope, same Mail he'd known.

"What do you mean, 'remember you'? I've never seen you in my life! And how do you know my real name? Who are you?"

Sighing, Mello looked Matt straight in the eyes. He pulled his hair back behind his head and pulled a chocolate bar out of what appeared to be nowhere.

"You sure you don't remember me, Mail? You don't remember Mihael? I wouldn't say I'd become unrecognisable…I'm not 15 anymore, but I don't think I look _that_ old."

"Oh my God. You…you…what the fuck is wrong with you, Mihael?! You fucking _ran away_, and you expect me to fucking…I don't know…forgive you, or something! I haven't seen you in _three years_, you absolute cock! How _dare_ you?!"

Mello looked down. Mello looked sad. Mello looked like a little puppy who'd gotten lost and was about to cry. Mello looked like the most fucking beautiful man in the world. A sight for sore eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mail. I mean it, I'm sorry. I'd go back and undo it if I could. I'd have come back sooner if I could have. "

"Did you even _try_?" Matt's voice was thick with holding back tears. A look of surprise crossed Mello's face.

"Of _course_ I tried! What, you think I just…pissed off to South London for three years and lounged about not trying to contact you, or see you, or anything? Don't you _see_? I still love you, Mail."

A tear dripped into Matt's beer. Another. Drip, drip, drip. His heart felt like it was deflating, but like it was flying off to Neverland at the same time. Mihael was back. Mihael still loved him. Well, he said so anyway. So, Matt kissed him. Full on the lips. Threw his arms around his lover's neck, knocking over his beer in the process. But what did he care about alcohol? It had been a substitute for Mihael. And Mihael was back. Nothing else mattered.


	2. I Bet That You Look Good On The Dance Fl

_Stop making the eyes at me, I'll stop making my eyes at you/what it is that surprises me is that I don't really want you to/and your shoulders are frozen (as cold as the night)/oh, but you're an explosion (you're dynamite)/your name isn't real, but I don't care for sand and lighting/the fuse might result in a bang b-b-bang-go._

_I bet that you look good on the dance floor/I don't know if you're looking for romance or/don't know what you're looking for/I said I bet that you look good on the dance floor/dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984, well, from 1984!_

_I wish you'd stop ignoring me because it's sending me to despair/without a sound yeah you're calling me and I don't think it's very fair/that your shoulders are frozen (as cold as the night)/oh, but you're an explosion (you're dynamite)/your name isn't real, but I don't care for sand and lighting/the fuse might result in a bang with a bang-go…_

_I bet that you look good on the dance floor/I don't know if you're looking for romance or/don't know what you're looking for/I said I bet that you look good on the dance floor/dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984/well, from 1984!_

_Oh, there ain't no love, no Montagues or Capulets/are just banging tunes and DJ sets and/dirty dance floors, and dreams of naughtiness!_

_Well, I bet that you look good on the dance floor/I don't know if you're looking for romance or/don't know what you're looking for/I said I bet that you look good on the dance floor/dancing to electro-pop like a robot from 1984/well, from 1984!_

Wow. Damn, that guy was hot. Hot, cute and beautiful, all in one. Too bad he was on the other side of the club, not dancing, just drinking a beer and…eating a chocolate bar? Hm. You did get some odd types around Soho. Although, Matt had seen weirder. There was that guy in the pink, sparkly thong…and the dildo poking out of the back of his neck…block the memories, Matt, just block the memeories. Focus on the hot guy. Look. Long-ish blond hair, in between his shoulders and his chin. Clean cut, straight fringe. A girl's cut, but that only added to the feminine charm of him. And the leather clothes. Tight, shiny black leather. High heeled black leather boots. Bare arms and neck. That was sexy. Especially as you could see the muscles. Strong little boy. Angular face…high cheekbones, straight nose, slightly slanted eyes thick with guyliner (also sexy), thin pink lips pulled into a smirk…_fuck._ Dude, just get up there and dance already! I'm sure everyone else agrees with me, we need to see you dance. You're standing there with your shoulders fucking frozen, and you're making eye contact with me. I wish you'd stop. Well, I don't. If you're going to come over here, hurry the hell up.

So. My job to approach you, huh? Well, guess it makes sense. The hot guy stands and basks in the glory and humiliation as countless less hot guys ask you to dance. Well. Might as well give it a try, eh? I've dolled myself up. Skinny jeans, tight enough age old band shirt, boots and gloves and my best goggles. Not a crack in the lenses. And my hair was clean, too. Freshly dyed as well. Naturally, it was a mouse-ish/blond-ish colour…I'd tried going all the way blond, failed, same with brown. So I settled on red. Not ginger, red. Garnet coloured. It was a fright when the dye was coming out. So, desperately hoping I looked good enough, I walked over to you and asked you to dance.

"So, uh…would you, um, like to…dance?... Perhaps? No? Sorry…"

"Sorry? Why should you be sorry? And when did I say no? In fact, I'd very much like to dance. That's what the staring was for, idiot."  
"Oh. Well. Then…let's dance?"

So we danced. We danced all night long, not caring about the music, or the other people around us. Dubstep switched to emo pop switched to rap switched to pop switched to goth switched to whatever, who cares. Countless couples left and arrived, but it was nothing but a blur to us. We just danced, and danced, and danced. And do you know what? I entered that club single, bored and full of energy. I left that club with a boyfriend, _definitely_ not bored, and I'd used up my energy with all that dancing. What. A. Night.


	3. Fake Tales Of San Francisco

**A/N: So yes I have taken a long time to update it I had exams and how the fuck do you even make this Matt x Mello anyway *sigh* anyway I want you all to cry so Mello died because you read this huehuehue. Also sewing cosplays and some personal deep shit I got myself into. And I gave Mello a stammer because it ruined my Spanish oral presentation and I needed to ruin his love life. Sue me. Also the cat keeps sitting on the keyboard FUCK OFF ELVIS. SERIOUSLY. SOMEONE HELP ME MOVE THIS CAT FOR FUCK'S SAKE. Also if the stammer seems a bit exaggerated at times I'm not making fun of anything, that's how mine sounds and I have never met another person with a stammer. ALSO HAPPY MATT X MELLO DAY! EIGHTH OF JULY! :D Also in this one they'll be just friends to celebrate the importance of friendship yissss...!**

_Fake Tales of San Francisco/echo through the room/more point to a wedding disco/without a bride or groom/There's a super cool band yeah/with their trilbies and their glasses of white wine/and all the weekend rock stars in the toilets/practicing their lines._

_I don't want to hear you/(Kick me out, kick me out)/I don't want to hear you no/(Kick me out, kick me out)/I don't want to hear you no/(Kick me out, kick me out)/I don't want to hear you, I don't want to hear your…_

_Fake Tales of San Francisco/echo through the air/and there's a few bored faces in the back/all wishing they weren't there/and as the microphone squeaks/a young girl's telephone beeps/yeah she's dashing for the exit/oh, she's running to the streets outside/"Oh you've saved me," she screams down the line/"The band were fucking wank/and I'm not having a nice time"._

_I don't want to hear you/(Kick me out, kick me out)/I don't want to hear you no/(Kick me out, kick me out)/Yeah but his bird thinks it's amazing, though/so all that's left/is the proof that love's not only blind but deaf._

_He talks of San Francisco, he's from Hunter's Bar/I don't quite know the distance/but I'm sure that's far/yeah, I'm sure that's pretty far/yeah, I'd love to tell you all my problem/you're not from New York City, you're from Rotherham/so get off the bandwagon, and put down the handbook._

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah/yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah/yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah/yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah._

_Get off the bandwagon, and put down the handbook._

'Pfft,' whispered Mello as he sipped his beer. What did these normal bastards know about being abroad? Bet they'd never even been outside the country. Now, him, he'd been all over…every state in America, China, Japan, France, Russia, Lithuania, Australia, Brazil, Argentina, Bolivia, Kenya, Rwanda…hell, listening to their stories, he could pick out the telltale faults speaking for themselves, quite clearly, that they'd not even been to the next county. Jeez, what a bunch of inbred, idiot losers. White, white, white, sunburn, white, white, white, biracial…stupid town. Stupid, boring town. How had he even gotten himself here, anyway?! He was a bloody comic artist! Just because he needed to draw some authentic churches and pubs and houses…

"Bored, are we, mate? Yeah, these buggers are pretty irritatin'." A red haired teen in an apron had appeared behind the bar. Looked about sixteen. If he was, then the five policemen in The Queen's Arse'ole were doing their jobs terribly. Well, who cares, they were drunk as hell. Red faced, singing…oh, God, were they singing _Frank?_ He had never heard more injustice done to the old crooner than these old men. Butchering My Way, they were. Jesus Christ, he'd heard it better done by twenty five year olds on karaoke night at pubs in Soho. Oh, right. The red haired lad was talking to him. Guess he was a tad drunk as well, seeing as it took him ten whole seconds to focus on the boy's face. "H-h-ho-how o-old are you? Y-y-yo-you look pr-pret-pre…" Mello sighed. Stupid stammer. "Pre-pretty y-young—"

"Young for a bartender? Yeah, Ah get that a lot. Ah'm twenty, in all honesty, mister. You yourself look a wee bit young to be drinkin'…"  
"Tw-tw-tw-twe-enty o-one."

"Oh? And what brings yeh to this tinsy little town? Never seen yeh before, and yeh don't look the type to be travel writin'."  
"C-com-mic a-art-art-t-tist."

The red haired dude's whole body perked up at the mention of comics. He even stopped polishing the glass to stare at the blond. "Comics? Really? That's _awesome!_" Mello blinked. Usually, the reception of his job would go more along the lines of 'what a geek!', 'loner' and fake praise. A nice surprise, to be honest. Mello smiled. "I-I t-ta-ake i-it y-y-you like c-comics?"

"_Like comics_? I love the things! What kind d'yeh illustrate?"

"A-act-tion a-a-ad-v-venture. F-f-fan-antas-sy. Sc-sci fi."

"Any famous ones?"

"I did th-the K-King Ra-a-at of N-N-Nev-Never-er-g-g-glade."

The red headed bartender gaped at Mello. "_The King Rat of Neverglade?! _That's crazy! It's my favourite comic _ever! _I love it!" The boy blushed and looked down. "Bet yeh get this a lot, don't ye?"

Mello stared surprisedly at the kid. Someone was getting this worked up over a shitty little project his best friend and him had come up with over a couple bottles of wine? Wow. "Uh…n-no, a-act-ctual-ly…"

"No!? But…Rat King is _amazing!_ It's…the best, just the best!" Looking up shyly, the boy asked, "D'yeh think yeh'd be able to sign my copy? Please?"

"I-I-I guess…do y-you have it w-w-wi-ith y-you?" The boy frowned and shook his head. "No…but, I suppose…we could maybe meet up tomorrow and?..."  
"OK. W-what t-t-time?"  
"Four? In the churchyard?"

"C-cool. I'll s-see you th-there." Mello finished his beer, got up and the barboy went back to polishing glasses, but with a slightly less bored expression on his face.

Mello walked into the churchyard at 3:55…he hated being late….but the red haired boy was there already, sitting on the wall, playing on a gameboy. Beep beep, boop boop. He was hammering down on the buttons with his thumbs furiously, and his face displayed an expression of determination and frustration. It was quite interesting to watch, actually. So Mello stood and watched until the boy noticed. When he did, he laughed and moved forward, bringing a pen out of his pocket.

"H-have yo-you got th-the c-comic?"

"Course! Look, 'ere." The boy held out a (limited edition) copy of Mello's most successful comic.

"A-and who is it t-to?"

"Matt."

Mello signed the comic (To Matt, from your friend Mello :3)and handed it to the boy.

"S-so, Matt, h-how are you?"

"Fine, thanks. Uh…seeing as yeh'll probably be needin' some guidance round the village, hows bout Ah do it? Ah know every nook 'nd cranny there is!"

"Th-thanks! I'd re-really ap-preciate it!"

"Yeh've got to leave so soon? But yeh only got 'ere a few days ago! What a shame…."

"I l-like y-you, and y-you're a good ar-art-tist…do you th-think y-you co-could h-h-h-elp-p me?... L-like…w-with the dr-dra-awings…."

"Oh me God, really!? Yeh've got no idea 'ow much that means to me! Should I give you my email?"

"Y-yeah, su-sure."  
The two eschanged emails and Mello got on a train goodbye town goodbye Matt.

gogglesgunsandgames  
RE: Hi!

Hey, Mello! How are you doing?

chocolategunsandrosaries

RE: Hi!  
Hey, Matt! I'm doing good, thanks, you?

gogglesgunsandgames

RE: Hi!

Fine!

So, how's the new series going?

chocolategunsandrosaries

RE: Hi!

It's going pretty well, thanks. We're looking for a publisher.

gogglesgunsandgames

RE: Hi!

That's awesome! Really great!

chocolategunsandrosaries

RE: Hi!

Yep! We've found one. The dude in charge is pretty cool.

gogglesgunsandgames

RE: Hi!

Ooh! Let me know when it comes out, please!

chocolategunsandrosaries

RE: Hi!

Sure will, friend! ^^


	4. Dancing Shoes

**A/N: I'm going on holiday and will be inactive until September, so I'm making this one…special. Enjoy yourself, my little peanut because like one person reads this thing lul :3 NEAR IS APPEARING IN THIS ONE :O IDINA MENZEL STOP DISTRACTING ME WITH YOUR BEAUTIFUL SINGING I NEED TO SING LIKE THAT ;-; and with the fucking cat again gtfo elvis now go listen to metallica with me next year mwahaha**

_Get on your dancing shoes/there's one thing on your mind/hoping they're looking for you/sure you'll be rummaging' through/and the shit, shock, horror/you've seen your future bride/oh, but it's oh so absurd/for you to say the first word/so you're waiting and waiting…_

_The only reason that you came/so what you scared for?/don't you always do the same/it's what you there for, don't you know...the lights are flashing/down in here tonight/and some might exchange a glance/but keep pretending to dance_

_Don't act like it's not happening/as if it's impolite/to go and mention your name/instead you'll just do the same/as they all do, and hope for the best..._

_The only reason that you came/so what you scared for?/Well don't you always do the same/it's what you're there for but no/get on your dancing shoes/you sexy little swine/hoping they're looking for you/sure you'll be rummaging through_

_Oh and the shit, shock, horror/you've seen your future bride/oh, but it's oh so absurd/for you to say the first word/so you're waiting and waiting…_

Across the club. The boy in the skin tight leather, with the boy in the baggy white…things. They looked like pyjamas?... Whatever. The boy in the skin tight leather. He'd been dancing (with the white haired, white clothed guy) since 10pm, and it didn't look like he was going to stop any time soon. He had chin length blond hair, was more slim and wiry than skinny, and was very, very sexy. He had a rosary bouncing off his chest every time he moved, and damn, he made those high heeled leather boots look positively fuckable. _Damn_. Oh, this was getting interesting, the white haired guy had reached down the blond haired guy's trousers. The blond hair didn't like it, it seemed. Pushed whitey away and stormed off to the other side of the bar.

Incidentally, he plonked himself and his sweaty body next to Matt.

Incidentally, the white haired guy also came down and plonked himself and _his_ sweaty body on the _other_ side of Matt. Oh. Well, this was awkward.

Especially since blondie over there was checking him out.

Very, very obviously. As in, blondie was literally eye raping him. And not trying to hide it from white hair over here. Who was apparently _also_ checking him out. Wow. Apparently skinny jeans did make a difference; last time he'd come here, every single person had ignored him and his baggy jeans.

"So, uh, blondie, you want a drink or something?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, okay?"

Apparently Matt had jerked the poor man from some important thoughts, that had apparently been centered around Matt's crotch area, unless blondie had an unfortunate, non-existent up to this point, lazy eye. Matt bought the beers and handed one to blondie. Indicating white hair with a movement of his head, Matt asked "Your friend over there want one too?" Blondie shook his head and glared at the other guy. Deciding to maybe get to know blondie before the evident fantasy he was having, Matt decided to start with something simple. "What's your name, hm? I'm Matt." "Mello. By the way, you're hot." Matt blinked in confusion. "Well…Mello…usually people don't just say that outright, but since you said it, I guess I can say that you're hot too. _Very._" "Thanks." "So, what'd your 'friend' over there do that made you so pissed?"

"He tried to do some…stuff…that involved sticking his hand down the front of my pants. And when I asked why, he said he wanted to see what gay sex worked like. He's not gay, apparently, just a pervert."

"Ah. Well then. And, for the information, I am gay."  
"This is a gay bar."

"I am also apparently an idiot. And this is my jam. Wanna dance?" Matt held out his hand to Mello.

"Okay."

So, they danced to Matt's jam. I shall not embarrass him any further than I am going to by revealing what it is, or the artist, but let's just say meat dresses and ooh la la, oui?

So, they danced for a few hours, until the club closed. That was when Matt remembered, not that he'd left the oven on (though that was a slightly worrying prospect), that he lived on the other side of London, and that Mister White Hair had, apparently, nicked his oyster card when groping him. Well…fuck.

"You need a place to crash for the night? Cos I live really close, down the road, around the corner and straight on until we've climbed 79 stairs."

"Oh, really? You'd let me? Thank you so much!"

"It's nothing, mate." Mello laughed.

So, Peter Pan reference overlooked, they proceeded to Mello's flat.

Where Mello proceeded to push Matt down onto the sofa and kiss him.

Matt proceeded to kiss back.

Mello proceeded to take Matt's shirt off.

Matt proceeded to turn them over, so he was on top now. Smirking, he ran a finger down Mello's chest, to the bottom of his abdomen, stopping above his semi-erect penis. He hooked a finger into the leather waistband, pulling it slightly down. Mello didn't wear boxers. Interesting. Matt moved his hands back up to Mello's shirt, unzipping it (slowly) and pulling it off (slowly), only to find that his trousers had been removed and he was again underneath Mello. Who proceeded to wave Matt's underwear in his face, taunt him with a 'looking for these?' and throw them to the floor, before pushing his knee between Matt's legs, and rubbing his semi-erect penis.

Not surprisingly, Matt moaned. Mello seemed to like the sound. So he kept doing it, and Matt kept moaning. This cycle kept going for about a minute, until Matt plucked up the self control to yank Mello's trousers down and throw them across the room, and stroke Mello's cock. Matt smirked when Mello let out a loud mewl and blushed. Matt did it again, aiming for a similar reaction, but Mello thrusted into Matt's palm as well as mewling this time. Oh well, thought Matt, the man wanted some more, he'd sure as hell get some more. So he slithered down between Mello's legs and licked up the cock, drawing more of those soft moans from the man beneath him. It was quite adorable, actually, this surly, bad arse, angry little guy all weak and needy, gripping the cushions of the couch. A very nice view. Mello gave an impatient groan and thrusted up a little, reminding Matt of what he was supposed to be doing. Matt took the head of the cock into his mouth and sucked, cupping his cheeks. A loud moan-y mewl-y thing came out of Mello's mouth. Actually, let's just say I can't write smut, I'll be inactive until September and this fic turned out crappy but I have school tomorrow so yeah.


End file.
